


Work Acquaintances

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 13:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10308950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: “Front Desk, good morning. Castiel speaking, how may I assist you?”“Cas,” comes a strangled voice, and Castiel doesn’t have to look at the display to recognize it.It’s near the end of his shift. There are a couple of early risers milling about the hotel, but it is still pretty quiet.“Mr. Smith,” he breathes. His pulse is already racing at thesoundof him, and he can hear faint whimpers on the other side of the line that aren’t helping matters in the least.“Please, Cas,” comes the almost pained voice of the man on the phone. Castiel bites his lip.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man guys I am SO sorry...  
> I am actually the worst lol. I just........ got distracted? was too busy? Idk, I just really wasn't feeling this freaking story. ABO is hard and awkward and I was scared to make this non-con or dub-con and it's really hard to navigate those issues and I'd already written like half of it and I had to fix it anddddddd  
> ugh
> 
> ANYWAY I'm sorry about the wait and hopefully this is alright. Once again, heats are hard to navigate so if you feel like I should put any more warnings let me know.

JUNE 24TH (later)

“Front Desk, good morning. Castiel speaking, how may I assist you?”

“Cas,” comes a strangled voice, and Castiel doesn’t have to look at the display to recognize it.

It’s near the end of his shift. There are a couple of early risers milling about the hotel, but it is still pretty quiet. 

“Mr. Smith,” he breathes. His pulse is already racing at the _sound_ of him, and he can hear faint whimpers on the other side of the line that aren’t helping matters in the least.

“Please, Cas,” comes the almost pained voice of the man on the phone. Castiel bites his lip.

He’s torn. There isn’t much he can do on the phone to help the man. Not that he could help him otherwise anyway, he reminds himself. But trapped at the front desk he is truly useless. 

Fuck it.

“Just hold on, Mr. Smith,” Cas says into the phone. He hangs up when he hears the relieved whimper on the other line and immediately calls Charlie.

Castiel has been a night shift auditor for nearly a decade. He knows what goes on in the rooms. He’s seen a lot. The first couple of times he had seen someone go into heat or into a rut, he hadn’t been prepared. But he learned quickly. 

He kept them for emergencies. 

One time, a young omega had gone into heat while on vacation with her Alpha father. He had come rushing down to the front desk in a panic, asking if anywhere would sell a fake knot to get them through the night. At three in the morning on a Tuesday, Castiel was glad to inform them that despite the fact that they were unlikely to find any stores open that would sell them such a thing, he could give them one himself.

It’s an awkward thing to suggest. Why would he own that? Who else had used it? How much would he charge?

But Castiel only offered them in the worst case scenarios. He bought new ones whenever he gave them away. He didn’t ask for money, just offered up the names of clinics and pharmacies open in the morning. It was worth the personal cost to see the relieved faces of those in need.

Anna had found out a few years ago. It wasn’t strictly against any explicit rules, but it did stretch the job description of providing a Service So Memorable a little far. Though she didn’t exactly agree with his methods, she appreciated Castiel’s willingness to help.

“It’ll get you in trouble one day, you know?” she had warned.

Castiel can’t help but think she was right as he instructs Charlie to stand guard at the front desk while he delivers a _package_ to a room. If he wasn’t so worried about losing control of himself, he would almost think his wording was funny.

*

He’s too paranoid to take the elevators. Crowley has cameras set up in the oddest places, and it would be so like him to try to pin Castiel with some sort of grievance like using the guest elevators just to be able to finally fire him. Besides, Castiel feels jumpy with the silicone sex toy wrapped in a cheap plastic bag in his hands. He’d much rather burn off some of his nervous energy with stairs.

By the time he gets to the seventeenth, he’s sweating. He nearly drops the fake knot when he lifts a hand to knock on Mr. Smith’s door.

When it opens, Castiel is slammed into a wall of _Omega_ and _heat_ and _slick_. He kind of can’t believe he hadn’t figured it out earlier and he can’t help but remember the slick sounds on the phone. _God_. He has to brace himself on the doorframe and close his eyes for a moment before looking up.

Oh.

Looking up proves to be an enormous mistake.

Mr. Smith is… mouth watering.

His short hair is a mess, some of plastered to his forehead while other strands stick straight out from his scalp. His green eyes are hazy with lust and his pink lips are parted. He is positively panting, arms supporting him on the other side of the doorframe as he stares Castiel down with unwavering _hunger_. A white bathrobe clings to his damp skin and Castiel tries not to let his gaze linger any lower than the notches near his clavicle. 

“Cas.”

His voice is even deeper than usual, and if Castiel couldn’t smell him right now, he might think it an Alpha’s growl.

It takes every drop of his self-control not to pounce. Instead, he holds up the plastic bag, face turned to the hallway in a futile attempt to avoid the delicious smell.

“Cas,” the man whines, and Cas’ attention is ripped towards him again. His expression is pained and he reeks of distress and rejection. _Fuck_. 

“No, no,” Castiel rushes to assure him. Though Mr. Smith hasn’t said a word, Castiel feels as if they are communicating on another level. Or perhaps Castiel is just inferring too much from the man’s scent, but he doesn’t care because the smell of hurt should _never_ be around his Omega. _This_ Omega. Whatever, _God_.

Castiel walks into the room without thinking and almost immediately Mr. Smith is draping himself on him again, whimpering.

“Please,” he says quietly. There’s an undercurrent of shame in his scent and Castiel briefly wonders how on earth his nose got so well attuned to this so-called work acquaintance. 

“Sh, here, Dean, I’ll take care of you,” Castiel is saying without thinking, and the sudden burst of laughter from the guest surprises him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I would… _mmph_ ” Mr. Smith pauses for a moment as an apparent wave of heat catches him off guard. “Prefer if you would call me…” he pants slightly, hips rocking into the air. Castiel averts his eyes, blood burning. “ _Mr. Smith._ ”

It takes a moment for Castiel to understand, the scent and situation proving to be somewhat distracting. When it hits him, he blushes.

“I apologize, sir,” he attempts to say, but it comes out strangled when Mr. Smith throws back his body in laughter again. Sweat drips from the column of his throat and Castiel swallows convulsively.

“Just c’mere,” Mr. -- _Dean_ says, grabbing Castiel by the collar. 

Up close, Dean’s scent is nothing short of intoxicating, and despite the circumstances, Castiel can feel his cock swell at the proximity. Dean, on the other hand, is busy dragging Castiel to the bedroom, where Castiel can already see the bed is a complete mess. Oh _God_ the scent of slick is suffocating. Castiel needs to leave. He needs to explain why he’s here and then leave. 

Dean drags Castiel down on top of him, the flimsy robe barely covering him now, and Castiel holds himself up on his hands in front of him.

“Mr. Sm--” Castiel begins, and Dean growls at him. _Oh, God_. “Dean,” he amends, passing a distracted hand through Dean’s hair. He leans into the touch, a pleased whimper on his lips. “I need you to listen for a moment,” Castiel continues. He can hear his voice deepened with arousal, but he does his best to stay in control. He knows his eyes must have the telltale ring of red. Dean seems non-plussed, grinding up against Castiel’s clothed leg with his eyes closed.

“Dean, you are not in control of your actions right now,” Castiel says, attempting to pull back.

“What?” Dean’s eyes snap open and his expression is halfway between a pout and a snarl. Castiel winces, a wave of nausea at Dean’s scent rolling over him even as he begins to extricate himself.

“I came here to give you this,” Castiel says, gently prying Dean’s arms off his waist, not without difficulty. He succeeds in planting one foot firmly on the floor, while Dean glares up at him, uncomprehending. Castiel takes out the fake knot, his skin hot with embarrassment. 

This was truly the worst possible decision of his life.

Dean’s expression turns from offended to hurt to finally rest on pleading. 

“Cas,” he says, the name barely recognizable beneath the whine. “Please.”

Castiel’s chest constricts at the sound, but he grits his teeth against the inexplicable pain in his chest.

“Dean, I can’t… I’m not…” he takes a breath and holds it, determined to explain why Dean shouldn’t want him, why he _doesn’t_ want him. It’s just the Heat.

“Cas, please,” Dean says, grabbing the knot from his hands in desperation. “Please. You don’t--” he shuffles back, the robe falling completely open as he positions himself back to the headboard. “ You don’t have to do anything, just please…”

Castiel represses a groan, letting his breath go and staring up at the ceiling.

“Please, Cas,” Dean repeats again. 

Castiel glances down at him, guilt and arousal and almost physical pain battling for dominance in his gut.

“Don’t leave me,” Dean whispers and that’s it.

Castiel takes a deep breath and reaches for his phone. Dean must misinterpret the set in Castiel’s shoulders because a sob escapes his throat. Castiel is near him immediately, running a cool hand over his burning skin, hushing the pained sounds Dean makes. 

“Just wait, okay, sweetheart,” Castiel says soothingly, his fingerss trembling as he dials with one hand. “Just hold on a little longer for me.”

Dean makes a pathetic noise, reaching up to take Castiel’s hand. He brings it to his mouth and sucks two of Cas’ fingers into it. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” Castiel mutters into the phone until… _yes!_

“Hullo?” came a sleepy voice.

Dean frowned when Castiel removed his fingers from his mouth to hold his phone more firmly to his ear.

“Dr. Wesson!” Castiel nearly shouted. He heard some sheets rustling.

“Castiel?”

Okay. It would be okay. Dr. Wesson was a medical profession. He could help. Castiel did his best to ignore Dean’s hand, which was now making a determined path to Castiel’s thigh.

“Dr. Wesson, I need your help. I’m sorry to call so late, I just…” Dean chose this moment to press the heel of his hand into Castiel’s crotch. “Ah! I’m sorry, Dr. Wesson, I am… preoccupied.”  
“Sam, Cas. It’s six in the morning just call me Sam,” Dr. Wesson says tiredly, and Castiel tries not to whimper as Dean rocks up against him. “Now what’s going on?”

“An… an… Omega. In heat,” Castiel says haltingly, gritting his teeth against the near painful arousal radiating in his groin. “A male omega, mid thirties, supp--” Castiel inhales deeply, unable to stop an errant twitch of his hips. Dean growls in approval. “Suppressant failure. And I think he’s been taking them a long time.”

“How long?” Sam asks, voice low and urgent. Castiel thanks the heavens that he doesn’t question the odd tone of Castiel’s voice. Or the whimpers. _God_ , the man can probably hear Dean too. He’s not exactly being quiet. Castiel is torn between embarrassment and fierce possessiveness. 

“Years, I think,” Castiel mutters through his bared teeth.

“Shit.”

There’s a beat of silence in which Castiel swallows an enormous panicked lump in his throat.

“Shit?!” Castiel asks after it becomes clear that Sam has nothing else to say. “Is that it? Shit?”

Castiel takes a deep breath to calm himself, but the smell of Dean is nearly overwhelming and he can feel his control slipping. _Fuck_ this! He’s done his duty, hasn’t he? He needs to _claim_.

“Castiel!” comes a sharp voice in his ear, just as Dean shoves Castiel off of him, seemingly becoming too impatient. Castiel’s jaw drops as Dean looks around for a moment before locating the toy Castiel brought.

For a moment, Dean almost looks like himself as glances up at Castiel, knot held firm in his hand, and _smirks_.

“Castiel! Listen to me!”

Sam’s voice snaps him back to the conversation he was having and he tries to ignore the slick sound of Dean’s fingers entering himself. _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck._.

“I just needed a second, okay. This is probably bad. Does he have a friend or Alpha that can help him through this?” Sam asks. Castiel closes his eyes, trying to concentrate.

“He won’t say,” Castiel admits. “He, um,” Castiel lowers his voice to barely above a whisper. “He seems to want me.”

Sam inhales sharply.

“And you… can’t… uh…?”

“He is a guest of the hotel, Sam,” Castiel says softly and even he can hear the regret in his voice. _If only_.

“Okay. He’s going to need… What is he doing right now?” Sam asks, and Castiel opens his eyes.

Mistake. Stupid, idiotic, _foolish_ mistake.

“He’s,” Castiel clears his throat, unable to tear his eyes away from Dean. “He’s fucking himself. On a knot. A- uh- plastic one I brought him.”

The words don’t do him justice though. Dean is sprawled on the bed on his back, legs spread as far as he can manage as he vigorously shoves the small toy in and out of his hole, slick leaking onto the bed as he whines in need. Castiel’s fingers twitch, but he just grips the phone harder and tries to concentrate on Sam’s words. His cock strains painfully against his zipper and he palms it, unable to resist.

“... is good. At least he has something, but Cas,” Sam is saying. Castiel wrenches his gaze away from the beautiful creature on the bed. “It won’t be enough. He needs medical attention. Going off suppressants like that? A spontaneous heat… Where are you right now?”

“We’re at the hotel,” Castiel says shortly.

“I’m on my way,” Sam replies immediately. Before Castiel can say anything, the doctor drops his voice. “Hang on, Cas. You’re doing the right thing, okay? Just hang on.”

The line goes dead and Castiel is left to the sounds of Dean panting his name. He doesn’t have the heart to leave Dean alone, even though he knows that’s what he should do. Charlie is likely running out of excuses for him and Castiel is running out of self-control, but he can’t stand to even leave the room when his Omega needs him. He runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath he’d been holding.

“Cas,” Dean says, one hand still working the toy into his hole and the other stroking his cock. His hips are coming off the bed with each thrust and his expression is caught in a mask of tension and pain.

“Dean,” Castiel whines, bringing a knee up to kneel onto the bed again. 

Dean opens his eyes, finding Castiel’s gaze, and then he gasps, body convulsing off the bed as a groan rips from his throat. 

“CASTIEL!” he shouts, coming all over his chest. Castiel can’t help but glance down to where his hole clenches around the toy and Dean must not have had the presence of mind to press the button and Castiel is _itching_ to see him satisfied and if he could just…

He leans forward quickly, pressing his thumb on top of Dean’s so the toy’s silicone knot expands and locks into Dean’s welcoming body. The man shudders, his hand wrapping around Cas’ arm and holding his hand in place on the toy. He grinds against the cheap plastic, moaning unintelligibly. Castiel can’t help the shift of his hips or the rumble of pleasure at the mere image of his Omega even partially sated. He did that. He takes care of his Omega.

“Yes,” Castiel growls, pushing the toy a little further, a little roughly. _God_ he’d been so good. Perhaps the universe could forgive him this tiny indulgence. Dean certainly had, if the second orgasm wracking his body was anything to go by.

Still shaking a little, Dean dropped his legs onto the mattress.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said, voice hoarse. Castiel needed to leave. He needed to leave while he still could. Or could he?

Opening his eyes, Dean smiled a little hazily at Castiel. He attempted to right himself, pushing himself up so he could lean against the headboard once again, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate and all that he managed to do was pull at his rim where the toy’s handle was still locked in. He hissed, grinding down against it again as his cock spurt half heartedly onto his already sticky stomach. Castiel’s own arousal burned as his hands twitched at his side. 

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“Cas,” Dean said for the millionth time that night. “What are you doing, little Alpha?” 

Dean groaned and pitched himself forward so that he was on all fours in front of a kneeling Castiel. His hands came up to cup Castiel’s clothed erection almost delicately. Castiel whined, pushing into the touch instinctively. Even through two layers of clothing, Dean’s touch felt amazing, and Castiel couldn’t help but thrust minutely, desperate for any kind of relief.

“That’s it, Alpha,” Dean was cooing, one hand snaking around Castiel’s side to his ass. When Dean flexed, fingers digging into the flesh there, Castiel cried out.

“D-Dean!” he said, hands balling into fists, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure licking up his spine.

“Coulda been mine, little Alpha,” Dean was mumbling, dropping kisses along Cas’ shirt. “Wanna feel you inside me, s’not enough. Need your knot. Give it to me, Alpha. Come for me, come on, baby, wanna feel you…”

Castiel thrust sharply-- once, twice-- against Dean’s splayed hand and then he was coming, knot swelling painfully behind his zipper as he doubled over in exhaustion. 

“God, yes, Cas, you’re so sexy, baby, so good for me,” Dean was still mumbling nonsense, his hands coming up to frame Castiel’s face. “Feel so good, wanna feel you, please…”

The fake knot had barely hit the mattress when Castiel noticed Dean rocking again, his body revving up for another round.

Sam was right.

Even if… Even if Castiel could--

This man is in need of medical attention.

Just as Castiel considers his options, wondering how ethical fucking Dean with a toy might be and how likely he was to visit Hell in the afterlife for what he’d already allowed to take place in this room, he hears the door to the room being opened.

He gets up, wrenching himself from Dean’s grasp and, ignoring the dizzy feeling of nausea at the sound of his pathetic whimper, drags himself out of the bedroom.

“Sam!” he exclaims, opening his arms up to hug the man, his saviour. Sam, however, wrinkles his nose.

“Right,” Castiel promptly remembers what state he must be in, his erection probably tenting his pants obscenely and his clothes likely damp with slick. “My apologies. He’s in there.” 

Castiel points to the bedroom and notices Charlie standing in the doorway, an expression of utter shock on her face.

“What. The fuck.”

“Charlie! What are you doing here? Who is at reception?” Castiel asks despite himself. Ten years of worrying about his job has ingrained this instinct in him. Not even a beautiful Omega in Heat can eclipse the duties of a night shift auditor, apparently.

“Ruby came in a little early, so I bribed her to stay,” Charlie shrugs. Castiel feels bile at the back of his throat. What had she told her?

“Don’t worry,” Charlie says, stopping his train of thought right in its tracks. “I just told her you were sick. Sam here arrived just in time. She didn’t even see him and I ran up to meet him. You’re fine, Cas. But I think maybe you should leave…”

Castiel glances down to where Charlie’s expression of distaste has settled. 

“I just want to make sure he’s alright, first,” Castiel tells her, or perhaps himself. Charlie lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

“When this is over I want a five page essay single spaced on my desk about what the fuck happened here tonight,” she says, and promptly turns around to leave.

Castiel takes a step towards the bedroom, but catching a whiff of the smell of his own release mixed with Dean’s is too much and he retreats to the bathroom.

The smell isn’t _much_ better here, but the shower gels do give him an idea.

Dousing a hand towel in Dean’s cloying Alpha cologne, Castiel makes his way back to the bedroom, where Sam is holding a bedsheet up to Dean’s mouth as he retches.

“What can I do?” Castiel says urgently, panic rising at the sight of his mate in danger.

“This is worse than I thought. I think we’re gonna have to sedate him,” Sam replies, wiping away at Dean’s sweaty forehead and neck. 

“Cas,” Dean croaks, arm reaching out to him. Castiel hesitates, but Sam yanks him forward by the shirt. Dean scents him, rubbing his nose in Castiel’s neck. It almost tickles. Castiel groans as he feels his cock perk back up from half mast.

Sam observes the interaction with some surprise, then increasing curiosity as Dean seems to calm.

“Maybe you should…” Sam begins to say, but Castiel is already pulling away from Dean, who clings just as tightly, whining again.

“I can’t, Sam,” Castiel says, though the words are strained. “I don’t know him. And even if I did… Heat isn’t consent…” Castiel steadies himself as Dean pulls him close to scent him again. He’s muttering a litany of _alphacasplease_ , arms like a vise around Castiel’s waist. “I fear I’ve done too much already,” Castiel mumbles, shame colouring his cheeks. 

Sam huffs, clearly exasperated.

“Is there any chance you’d, uh, be open to…” Castiel looks up at the doctor, whose cheeks are nearly as flushed as Dean’s… entire body. 

“What is it?”

“They say, at times, that simply an Alpha’s _semen_...”

“Sam! I told you I cannot break his trust this way. Please do not ask me again.”

“No! I didn’t mean…” Sam glances down at Castiel’s crotch, wincing. Well, it seems Castiel’s body is in disagreement with his intentions. “I mean, maybe, uh, get rid of that and,” Sam winces again, looking supremely uncomfortable. “And maybe save your… uh…”

Comprehension dawns.

“Sam! No,” Castiel answers. “I’m not… I can’t… That’s… that’s…”

What Castiel wants to say is that’s disgusting, wrong, or maybe even pushing boundaries. He wants to say it, but all his brain can supply him with is images of Dean licking come off his knot, of his Omega being sated, of his mate no longer writhing in pain but in…

“No,” he mutters again, and he’s not sure if he’s telling Sam or convincing himself.

“Alright, well, I’m going to need your shirt or something, anyway,” Sam says, somewhat defeatedly.

“Absolutely not!” Castiel growls. The doctor just rolls his eyes.

“Well, unless you want Dean here to go into full on rejection mode, you’re going to have to give me something. You might not think you know each other, but Dean’s body thinks you’re mates, Cas.”

“But I didn’t… We never--” 

The look on Sam’s face quiets Castiel’s protests.

“Dean needs you,” Sam says, and Castiel isn’t an idiot. He knows when he’s being manipulated. But Dean is nearly sobbing again, his scent a mess of arousal and distress.

“Fine. Fine,” Castiel says, undoing his buttons. When what he’s doing becomes clear, Dean perks up, fingers hindering more than helping on Castiel’s shirt.

“Sh, sweetheart, I’ll do this, just relax,” Castiel rumbles, ignoring Sam’s pointed look. 

Once the shirt is off, Castiel gently pushes it into Dean’s arms and begins to disentangle himself from the panting Omega. Dean looks up questioningly, but Castiel runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s ok,” Castiel reassures him. “I’m just going to take a shower. I’ll be right back.”

Dean whines, but Castiel pulls on the edge of the discarded bathrobe to distract him.

“Here,” he says, helping Dean lift his hips so it comes completely loose. “I’ll take this so I can still smell you.” 

This stroke of brilliance seems to appease Dean, whose stare burns into Cas’ as he buries his nose in Castiel’s shirt.

Okay, Castiel was not lying about that shower.

Sam gets up and follows him out of the room. Castiel watches Dean attempt to fuck the mattress with some concern, but Sam waves him off.

“I’ll take care of him in a minute, don’t worry,” Sam says, as if Castiel could stop if he tried. “Are you leaving?”

“No, I think I will take that shower, actually,” Castiel says hesitantly. Sam holds up a finger, stepping back into the bedroom for a moment to get his medical kit.

“Here,” he says, thrusting an empty container into Castiel’s hands while avoiding eye contact. “Just in case.”

“Sam, I-”

“No. Listen. Medically speaking, I don’t know enough to say for sure, but from what I’ve seen so far… Dean is going to need all the help he can get. I have sedatives here, and some synthetic hormones that could help, but I think… I think his body needs to go through this. I think maybe his heat was triggered by something,” Sam pauses for a moment. “Or some _one_.”

Castiel bites his lip.

“Besides,” Sam says, folding Castiel’s hand around the container. “Your scent seems to calm him down, at the very least. So just… think about it.”

Castiel takes the container and turns to the bathroom.

_Fuck._


End file.
